


get out of my head

by AllTheCryingAngels



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A Lot of Depression, Angst, Anxiety, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Depression, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly hurt, Paranoia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Service Dogs, Starvation, bite me, new spider abilities, so much poor peter, steve is alive and young, tony survived the snap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2020-09-01 12:08:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20257855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheCryingAngels/pseuds/AllTheCryingAngels
Summary: Peter Parker has been struggling with the "death" of his mentor, Tony Stark. He's been struggling with everything, recently. The world is shoving all it's problems onto him, and his strength fractured the moment Tony's eyes slipped closed on that battlefield. Now one of the best agents SHIELD has, Peter doesn't talk and focuses only on missions. He avoids his problems and doesn't sleep. He sets alarms to remind him to eat-- and often ignores them.Little does he know, Tony is alive. The Snap destroyed his arm, and he know has a vibranium replacement, nerves connected and everything. The world doesn't know that he's alive-- only Fury, some doctors, Pepper and Morgan, and a couple more important people know.Fury, following orders, has kept the information of Stark's survival confidential, for now. That doesn't stop him for doing his best to keep Peter alive-- even if he's not supposed to care. So he got him a dog and kept an eye on him, checking in at least once every two days to make sure the kid ate and stopped beating the crap out of his punching bags.The thoughts in Peter's head are too much. He's suffocating. Physical pain helps him breathe.





	1. I'm Alive???

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. This is my first fic. The summary is crazy long, I know, I'm sorry. Just read, please?
> 
> At some points, I might be projecting. I'll warn you if so. 
> 
> I don't have a beta, and my grammar is shabby at best. I'm sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> Enjoy :)

**Tony**  
“Finally, you’re awake. It’s been long enough.” Tony wearily blinked the sleep from his eyes, Fury’s shape solidifying in front of him.

Tony looked around. “Where am I?” His voice was rough and hoarse from disuse. “How long have I been out?” He raised his hand to his eye to rub at them, mind still sluggish from the last grasps of sleep. As soon as his hand touched his face, however, he flinched back. He didn’t touch smooth, calloused warm skin, but cold metal. He held out his arm in front of him. “Uh, what the fuck?”

“You are in a private room at SHIELD HQ. It’s been turned into a mini hospital, specifically for you.” Indeed, there were medical instruments all over the room. His flesh arm had an IV drip in, and he heard the heat monitor behind him. “You’ve been out for about four months now since the Endgame battle, as the media has named it.” Fury’s bored face softened for a split second before his mask snapped back up.

“Holy fuck, I’m alive.”

“Yes, Stark. You’re alive, and only a handful of people know. The world thinks you died saving them.”

“Morgan? Pepper?” He paused for a second. “Peter?”

Fury straightened slightly. “Your wife and daughter know you’re alive and well. They should be coming by to visit in a couple of hours-- they do every day.”

“And Peter?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“Why? Is he okay?”

“Only a few people are allowed to know until we release the information to the public. It wasn’t my call. And Peter… he’s not like he was five years ago, Stark.”

“What the fuck do you mean?”

“Peter is our best agent.”

“He’s sixteen!”

“With how the Snappening went, we are counting the years that people were… gone. Peter is twenty-one.”

Tony saw red. “What. The fuck. Is wrong. With my. Kid?!” He barked, enunciating each word.

Fury looked at him with a hint of sympathy. “He’s… acting a lot like Rogers, when he first came back. Spends a lot of time in the gym.” Fury checked his watch. “I have things to do. I’ll be back later with your family.” Fury held up a hand while walking to the door as Tony began to protest. “He has alarms for when to eat, and often ignores them. He doesn’t sleep. Ever. It’s a wonder he’s even alive. He drinks a lot.” Fury was out the door when he finished with “kind-of like you, when you were younger.”


	2. welcome to my personal hell, my mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Peter and Thief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just thought of this and thought I’d add it: Thief's eating schedule is: Once in the morning, once at night (meat) and then dog dry food is always open to him. While Peter is exercising, he can literally go back upstairs to Peter’s apartment to get food. He also eats whenever Peter eats, which isn’t often, and he doesn’t like dry food very much. He mostly eats red meat. Like a wolf uwu. 
> 
> Also trigger warning for self-harm (past), and mentions of suicide.
> 
> Thank you all for the support on the fic. I love you guys! I’m sorry it’s been so long since it was updated.

** _Peter_ **

Peter didn’t even bother to wrap his hands when he went into the gym. He just walked straight to the punching bag and threw off his shirt, using exercise to block out the dark thoughts crowding in his head. Thief-- Peter’s dog-- settled down about ten feet away, watching him take his frustration out through violence. 

Thief had been a sort-of gift from Fury-- the dog was going to be put down. He was “dangerous” because he was half-wolf, half german shepherd. A massive, lean black dog. He didn’t even look like a dog, to be honest. He looked pure wolf. 

He had adopted him when Fury called him to his office and just said “I have a dog, and they’ll kill him if you don’t take him. He’s fully trained,” and brought Thief out from behind his desk, and Peter said yes immediately. 

Peter glared at his dog as the wolfy creature rolled it’s eyes at him, seemingly remembering the same thing. “I would cuss you out if you weren’t a dog,” He growled. Thief laid down. “Actually, you know what? Fuck you.” Thief huffed and closed his eyes. 

Thoughts and memories flooded his vision as he shut his eyes for a minute, regretting the absence of sleep from the night before yet acknowledging that he most likely wouldn't get any that night as well. 

_ You did it, you did it, he’s dead he’s dead he’sdeadhe’sdeadhe’sdead and it’s all your fault-- _

He shut those thoughts as he threw a punch at the bag, it groaning wildly against the force of the movement. A burst of pain shot up from his knuckles, but he didn’t even give himself time to pause as his other hand shot toward the hard leather in a quick _ left right left right _ pattern. 

He lost himself in the familiar motions, blocking out the thoughts and memories-- he didn’t need them. That was what he was good for-- he was a protector. He was a weapon.

Peter didn’t bother to keep track of time, but a while later Thief barked at him to get his attention. He reached out, steadying the bag before looking back at the wolfdog. “What do you want?” He sighed. 

The dog looked at him for another beat before trotting over to the treadmill, looking back at Peter expectantly. Peter stalked over, crouching down so he could be eye-to-eye with the wolf. He dug his hands into Thief’s thick black fur, bringing their foreheads together for a second. He exhaled a long, shaky breath, mouthing seemingly random words onto Thief’s head. He scratched the wolfdog’s ears a couple of times, then pulled away. Just as he took his hands off, straightening, Thief grasped his wrist, not biting him, but keeping him there. When Peter looked down again, Thief released him, licking as his bloody knuckles. 

“I know, boy. Just a little longer, okay? Then we can go up and have a movie marathon or something.” He patted the treadmill belt expectantly, and Thief hopped on as Peter reached up to turn on the machine. 

As Thief started to run, muscles rippling under his fur, Peter set it to gradually increase over the next ten minutes to warm Thief up, then letting him run at his regular speed. 

Peter unconsciously rubbed his hip through the fabric of his exercise shorts, where his scars were. He pulled his shorts down a bit, revealing the long, parallel lines running down his side. The sight made him suck in a breath, despite how many times he’d seen them all ready. 

_ “Oh, kid.” _

_ Peter looked up from his shaking hands, where he was wiping disinfectant over the cuts on his hip, standing out against the pale white. The knife he used was resting on the sink, fully cleaned already. The cuts were deep, blood having already seeped through the first round of bandages. _

_ He wondered at how he was so calm, despite his mentor looking down at him, seeing how weak he was. Insane. He needed to push back the fog that had surrounded his mind. He could barely think, barely force himself out of bed when his mind told him there was no point. _

_ He looked up at his mentor’s face, bracing himself for anger, but Tony looked devastated. The look pierced through the fog that surrounded his mind and cut into him, and Peter flinched away from Tony. He mistook the look for disappointment. _

_ ‘Now he knows how crazy you are. Just when he was starting to like you. You’ve gone and ruined that, too, Parker.’ A voice in the back of his mind whispered. _

Peter snapped out of the memory with a gasp, his hand digging into the soft skin of his wrist, and he tugged the waistband of his shorts back up. Thief let out a whine, leaping off the moving treadmill to come and nuzzle at his palm. 

“I’m-- I’m okay, boy. It’s alright. I just need a breather.” Once again, he kneeled down, fingers sliding into the silky fur on Thief’s neck, pressing his face into it and breathing in the wolf’s scent. “What would I do without you,” he whispered. Thief put his head down on Peter’s shoulder, his ear brushing against Peter’s bare neck. The two stayed that way for a little longer, until Peter’s hands slipped from the dog’s neck, taking in one last long breath before pulling away. Thief lifted his head and looked at Peter, then the punching bag, pointedly. 

“Yeah, alright, I know. I’m done.” His voice was hollow.

He walked over and turned off the treadmill, the wolf following dutifully behind him. He paused for a moment after the machine slowed, looking around the room. The punching bag in the center had blood on it.

It was blue blood. Unmistakable. A freak’s blood. 

On his way back to it, he grabbed one of the towels slung over the bar of the bench press, using it to wipe off the dark blue liquid. His mind settled into an easy quiet, thoughts pushed back and a calm fog thrown over the forefront of his mind. He slid the towel over his knuckles, relishing in the soft sting they gave. 

Thief whined. “I’m fine, boy.”

He scooped up his phone and shirt with one hand, the other going to hold Thief’s collar. The black leather was there for Peter’s sake only-- he trusted the dog enough to never expect to have to grab him in he was going after something. He had it there so he could always hang on to the wolfdog, just to keep him present, keep him sane. His leash only came on when he was running, attached to his wrist to make sure people didn’t call the cops on a wolf. Thief stayed right next to him anyways when they went running-- often with Steve. In the wake of the… battle, Steve and him had grown closer, as someone who understood what was happening to him, the dark thoughts he had. Steve watched him, made sure he didn’t put a bullet through his brain like he was tempted to. The man kept him alive and sane until Thief was there to do it, until Steve didn’t have to keep him in his apartment, watch him 24/7. 

Peter would’ve liked to say he got better over those four months since the Snap, but he just learned to ignore it, to bottle it up until it exploded. 

Steve had been there the first time it had. Helped him through it, taken the hits Peter threw at him, and cared for him all the same afterwards. The second, he had been alone, a text from Happy saying he’d missed Tony’s funeral.

Peter didn’t grieve. He hurt, he hit the bottle, he sucked down alcohol until he couldn’t feel anything and the thoughts were all drowned out.

Peter was contemplating saying _ fuck it _ and getting a shot when he and Thief went up when his phone rang.

_ Nick Fury _ it read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah I have no idea when I'll post next but I have the fic planned out. So like, here's how it goes: Since in my universe everyone who got snapped was like alive and like could see and interact with each other, so when they come back they're saying that the years of the snap count in their age. So Peter is 21.
> 
> Love y'all


	3. we run, we run, away from you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter answers Fury's call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So, I’ve had to do a lot of work to the plot line for this fic, because the breaks into second and third were really prominent as all three parts of the fic had their own problem in an overarching problem… and the first one was like, Kit (my character) and Peter on their mission, and building each other back up. Like, helping each other work through their stuff while on a wacky mission. So, as per popular demand, I completely cut that part out, which means the break into two happens almost immediately, and Peter’s issues are NOWHERE near resolved, and yeah, I’m rambling. (theres still a full story arc, just not the one I planned)
> 
> Again- I’m so, so sorry it’s taken me this long to update. Thank you guys for sticking with and reading!! 
> 
> Oh, crap, one more thing- I’m sorry for the shifting perspectives, it’s just how I can write whenever I write the chapter I’m working on. It happens. If it really bothers you, tell me in the comments, and I’ll see what I can do, but it’s a lot easier for me to just be able to write however I can. (lmao my struggles with writer's block)

Peter was definitely going to get a shot.

He picked up the phone, the sleek metal cold in his palm, and sighed. He stared at it for a couple long moments, before Thief nudged his leg. He hit answer, and speed-walked toward the elevator, the wolf-dog at his side. 

He pressed the speaker.

“Parker?”

“This is she,” He joked, stepping out of the elevator and setting his gaze on the fridge. Holding the phone away from his face, he asked the dog, “Thief, you hungry?”

Thief barked, so Peter took that as a yes.

“Parker. I need you to come in today.”

“Awww, do you miss me, Fury? That’s so sweet.”

Fury growled, and Peter took out the dog food to refill Thief’s dry food. The wolf-dog sulked, and Peter gave him a look. “I already fed you this morning.”

The dog whined.

Fury sighed. “How soon can you be in?

Peter hummed a little as he sank down next to the doggy bowl, leaning criss-cross against the wall. “I can be over in thirty, maybe before if you really need me.”

“That's fine. Get over here, Parker.” And with that, he ended the call. 

~

After showering and forcing himself into the standard SHIELD uniform, Peter grabbed Thief’s leash and set toward him, intent on jogging to HQ. Because of his little… meltdown that morning, Thief hadn’t gotten much exercise. That, and the two of them normally ran in the morning anyway.

“C’mere, boy,” he said, and the dog trotted up to him, pushing his head into Peter’s side. Peter clipped the leather onto his collar, scratching the dog’s head. 

Swiftly walking to the elevator, the two started toward SHIELD.

~

I gripped his leash harder, clenching my fist around the thick strip of leather. The feeling grounded me, and I listened for my footsteps, clenching my teeth. Next to me, Thief brushed my thigh, making sure I was still present.

Sighing, I reached to scratch behind his soft ears, slowly slowing us to a walk. He whined, clearly hoping for a longer run, but kept pace at my side as we moved through the open doors, the guards gawking at him and I.

I reached my hand into my pockets, fishing out my keycard, but fumbled from the weight of their stares. I could feel them starting toward us. “Thief, block,” I murmured.

They were about halfway across the space before I pressed the keycard to the reader. It immediately dinged, and flashed green, waving me forward. Thief pressed into my side, warning me that the guards were still making their way over. I appreciated the warning, though Thief and I both knew I could still feel them coming toward us.

“Excuse me, sir,” one roughly called out when the pair reached about ten feet away. “We don’t allow pets in the building.”

Shit. I reached for his keycard, too, one that wasn’t required but was good in situations like these. Tugging it out, I held the card out to them. “Thief is also a registered SHIELD agent,” I told them. The dog held his head up higher, glaring at the man who spoke. After he took the card, I dug my hand that wasn’t holding his leash into the thick fur at his neck.

“I didn’t know SHIELD employed dogs. I’ll have to make sure. For now, you’ll have to stay in the lobby.”

“Uh, I really can’t wait-“ thankfully, Fury picked that time to call. I snapped my phone up and clicked speaker.

“Parker! What is taking you so long?” He demanded, and a blush crawled up my neck.

“I just hit some trouble in the lobby, Fury. The guards are a little confused about Thief.”

“Well, did you show them the keycard? I gave you it for a reason, Parker-“

The look on the two men’s faces was priceless. “Yes, I did. They said they needed confirmation. I’ll just wait until they’re finished. Robin Hood over here’s been eyeing up those leather couches.” Thief gave me a look of pure contempt at the nickname, and I snickered.

The guard who spoke’s phone dinged. Confirmation.

“You can go ahead, sir,” the other one said after checking his phone, face red.

I thanked them quietly and set off toward the elevators. Thief held his head up high beside me, obnoxiously proud and showing off like a purebred competition dog.

“Hush, babes. You’re not supposed to be proud of getting stopped by security.” I told him, and he snuffed at me.

We stepped into the open elevator, and pressed the floor to Fury’s office, looking out the glass walls. A man and a woman stepped into the elevator after us, too deep in their own conversation to hear me say, “block,” quietly to Thief. 

One of them gasped when they saw the large dog, and so they kept their distance- as was intended. Out of the corner of his eye, I watched Thief give them a wide, tongue-lolling grin, tail wagging.

I stifled a laugh, shuffling around. I could basically feel the two’s discomfort. Reaching down, I scratched Thief behind the ears. I didn’t have to reach down much- he was tall enough that I was pretty much just reaching left. Honestly, I could understand why people would fear him.

The elevator’s door closed, and we shot up. I moved as close as I could to the glass without touching it, gripping the leash tight. The other people in the elevator resumed their conversation, though a bit more hesitant.

The elevator slowed to a close, and the man and woman hurried out, glancing back to us. When the doors closed behind them, I sighed, shoulders drooping. I turned to Thief. “Sit, boy.”

He sat, then rubbed his large, wolf-like head against my side. I scoffed, but smiled nevertheless. “You’re such a big, terrifying animal.” His eyes rolled back as I pet his head. “So scary.”

After a minute or two, the doors slid open. I rolled my neck, and let Thief go on in front of me. As we walked out of the elevator, people swerved out of their ways to avoid us. We got less than twenty feet before an annoyed voice from across the room called out, “Parker!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you guys go. I'm still in the right headspace to write, which is SO RARE for me nowadays, so I'll most likely post another chapter soon. Thank you, once again, for everyone who's commented. You all are amazing.
> 
> So yeah, surprise! I'm not dead. I might post another fic soon, probably not a sprawling one like this one's planned to be, but I have SO MANY ideas and so many half-written or fully-written scenes. 
> 
> Love ya guys!!

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, that was it. Comment if you want me to continue, because I really want to, but recently I can't seem to get into any new stories. Or anything, really. 
> 
> The updates (if you guys want them) will be sporadic at best. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
